


every other freckle

by raggedypond



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Forehead Kisses, Hickeys, Holding Hands, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Neck Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 19:27:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2784953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raggedypond/pseuds/raggedypond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is based on a tumblr post I saw about someone accused of destroying government property; said government property was a marine officer who'd been given a hickey and I thought this would make a nice Gallavich fic. This also has lots of fluff and domesticity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	every other freckle

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Anna-Maria, who made me watch the show and who now shares all my Gallavich & Mickey feels.   
> ob te ance

Mickey entered the Gallaghers’ kitchen, stretching and yawning. It was a still, lazy Sunday morning, and it was already well into it, closer to noon than to dawn. The place was unusually calm and silent, devoid of all the noise Gallaghers, save for Ian, who was making breakfast; it was the racket and cluttering of cutlery and plates that had woken Mickey up and he was glad to see that Ian was the cause of it. He could live with that. He could get used to it, he could even get to like it. It was not half bad, he thought, to have a home, a family. He then felt ashamed of himself and chose to pretend he had not thought that.

“Mornin’, Mick,” Ian grinned from behind the counter as he put another pancake on top of a pile so high it was threatening to topple; sunlight poured through the windows, bathing the whole room in dull, warm light and softening Ian’s rough edges. Mickey eyed him lovingly, yet pretended not to be doing so. It had been some time since Ian was last home, and quite a long time since they’d had a chance to be alone, to be domestic. He flinched at the word. It scared him, but what scared him even more was the fact that he was growing rather fond of it. He was growing to like it. 

He opened the fridge door and inspected its contents. 

“Mornin’,” he said, as he pulled the milk out. “Where’s everyone?”

He didn’t care in the least; he did not miss Mandy and Lip and Fiona and the other Gallagher kids, and Svetlana and Yevgeny. Pretty much all he wanted, all he needed was Ian, even if he would never admit it.   
He approached Ian and leaned against the counter as he drank straight from the carton.

“Out,” Ian replied and Mickey could swear he could hear the goddamn smile in his voice. The whole house smelled of pancakes and maple syrup, and coffee, and Ian. He had apparently showered, as his wet hair glistened in the sun; he stretched after he’d put the pan in the sink and the edge of his T-shirt (Mickey noticed it was one of his, and wondered when this had happened, when he had started to spend so much time at the Gallaghers that he’d begun to leave his clothes behind for Ian to wear) revealed an inch of pale skin. All of a sudden, he felt the surprising, terrifying urge to kiss him then and there; he shook it off. 

They had breakfast in silence, then sat on the couch and lit cigarettes; it was not, Mickey realized, awkward. It was comfortable to just be there, next to Ian. He wanted to touch him, to trace every edge of him, to rub off his roughness. They were both too rough, too tough, he realized as his gaze slowly traced Ian’s jaw line, Ian’s cheekbones, Ian’s lips, Ian’s arms, Ian’s chest. Being in the army had taken its toll; Ian was a man now. Mickey swallowed; of recent, he was filled with these new, compelling urges to touch, to kiss, to be touched, to be kissed, and it was new, and scary, and he was uneasy and uncertain, and clumsy, and did not know how to behave. 

As they were watching TV, he carefully slid his hand in Ian’s direction until their hands touched, and he hesitantly entwined their fingers; for a moment he didn’t dare look up, but Ian squeezed his hand, and when Mickey met his eyes, he was grinning. He savoured in the feeling of their palms pressed together, Ian’s sweaty and calloused, and, a little embarrassed, thought that this was an extremely gay thing to do. He couldn’t believe for a while what was happening; he and Ian Gallagher were sitting on the couch, holding hands and smoking cigarettes on a sunny lazy Sunday – it was almost too ridiculous, yet he thought he would never, ever trade this moment for anything else. 

After a while, he felt Ian shift beside him, then he felt him move closer – and moments later, he could feel his breath on his neck. 

“Hey, I – I want try something,” he said as he pressed his lips to Mickey’s bare skin. Mickey gasped as Ian kissed his neck, first a quick series of kisses, then a few slow, sensitive ones. He swallowed once again, barely forcing himself not to groan as Ian’s lips covered every inch of his neck. He took a deep breath, then almost aggressively kissed Ian straight on the mouth, like he’d never done before; a deep, consuming kiss which he did not break even as he pushed Ian flat on his back and straddled him, pinning his arms over his head. 

“Feeling playful, huh,” Mickey’s lips stretched in a kinky smile as he finally stopped kissing him. Then he rid Ian of his T-shirt and stared at his naked chest for a while, holding his breath. He looked at Ian’s face, and wanted to freeze the moment, to stop time so that he could count each and every freckle on Ian’s face. He gave him a peck on the lips, then proceeded to kiss his jaw, to discover places of him he’d never touched before; he bit his ear, he caressed his lower stomach, he covered his neck with his lips. 

A wild though occurred to him and as he was kissing the crevice between Ian’s neck and shoulder, he began to suck; Ian moaned softly and grabbed the back of Mickey’s T-shirt as he sucked more intensely, then   
went on to bite, then kiss, then suck the place again. When he finally stopped, a purplish little hickey had found its place on Ian’s pale skin. Mickey smirked proudly after he’d inspected his masterpiece. He decided not to tell Ian, just to see his reaction later. 

Mickey brushed his lips against Ian’s, then decided to tease him a little more, and planted a path of gentle kisses down his torso, then hovered around his belly button until he could hear Ian panting. He kissed his stomach over and over again as Ian buried his fingers in Mickey’s hair and begged him, his voice dry and harsh, and strained with desire. Mickey unbuttoned Ian’s jeans and felt him ease a little; he grinned. Just then, he pulled himself up, got up from the couch and looked at Gallagher, flushed and half naked. He leaned over and gave him a final small kiss on the forehead – and knew that for a long while, this would be the most romantic and couple-like they would ever get. But he could live with that for now. 

He grabbed a beer from the fridge and went out, but not before winking at a very flustered Ian who was clumsily trying to get dressed and to sustain his laughter. 

*

About a day later, Ian got summoned once again. By then the hickey, which he’d noticed rather too late, had gone audaciously black and Ian’s cheeks went crimson any time anyone noticed it. 

He packed his stuff, rather hesitant to have to leave Mickey again. This time, it was he who found Mickey alone in the kitchen making what had to be breakfast but was, in fact, rather burnt toast and watery coffee. Nonetheless, Ian grinned and ruffled Mickey’s hair, but that was the only sign of affection he dared afford. When he could no longer prolong his departure, he awkwardly waved. 

“Well, I’ll be off.” 

Mickey interrupted him just then.

"Oi, Gallagher, you know I-", he paused; of course he was not gonna say it. The word was on the tip of his tongue but he swallowed it, then noded curtly. Ian knew. Ian didn't need to hear it. 

"I know," the answer came. He grinned and punched Mickey's shoulder gently. "So do I."

He put the backpack on his shoulder and prepared to leave, his hand grabbed the doorknob, then he heard Mickey's voice once again. 

"And, well, you know, be-" he was not going to say this one either. He may be gay, but he was not that gay and there was no way he'd admit he worried about Ian. 

"You know I will," Ian whispered and leaned forward to kiss the top of Mickey's head goodbye. Mickey didn't even think about it when he grabbed Ian's face and pressed his lips against Gallagher's, brusquely and clumsily; Ian's lips curled into a smile as he kissed him back, and he thought that that – well that definitely was something.

*

Mickey sucked on the cigarette he was holding, filling his lungs with the smoke, then slowly breathed out. He swigged beer from the bottle and stared at the cars shooting past; it was all very boring without Ian, but of course he’d never admit it. He wondered whether to go and see how Mandy was doing, even pondered over whether to find a job or anything at all to fill in the empty space Ian had left. He remembered the taste of his lips, so rare a pleasure to feel, and angrily put out his cigarette.

His cell rang. Mickey froze; it was not often that anyone at all called him. He hesitantly picked up.

“The fuck you want?” he said.

“You have destroyed government property,” he heard a stern, official-sounding voice.

“I ain’t done shit,” Mickey replied sharply; he was getting angry. “The fuck you mean, asshat?”

“You,” the voice repeated calmly, ”have destroyed government property, and you are not to do it again.”

“Might’ve got the wrong number, huh?”

“You are Mickey Milkovich, is that right?”

“Fuck it is, but I ain’t destroyed no shit, a’right? Ya ain’t gettin’me into prison.” 

The voice on the other side paused. 

“Mister Milkovich, the government property you have destroyed is – uhm, officer Gallagher. You –uhm,” the voice appeared to be a bit uncomfortable; he coughed. “you have given him a – well, a hickey. This is classified as destroying government property and you are not, I repeat, to do it again, under any circumstances. That is, unless you want to get in trouble.”

“He ain’t no government property, yeah?” Mickey mumbled, “Ian’s my property ya hear?”

There was silence on the other side.

“Fuck a’right, I ain’t gon’do that again.”

As he was hanging up, however, he smirked. There were hell a lot of other places he could give Ian hickeys, and he was already thinking of all the ways he could destroy government property the next time he saw him.


End file.
